Forsooth, Good Gentles
by Emerald1
Summary: A murder case. The team undercover. DiNozzo posing as a womanizer wasn't that much of a stretch, but what's with Palmer and pickles?   McGee's in charge of the op and he'd better be right, or Gibbs will kill him because FLETC never prepared them for this.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n - As promised, a chapter of the new story. Enjoy.**

Forsooth, Good Gentles

"Gear up people."

Gibbs' arrival caused Tony to shove his wadded paper ammo into a desk drawer. "Let me guess, Boss. Dead petty officer in Rock Creek Park?"

"Nope." Gibbs didn't even slow down as he walked through the bullpen, knowing his team would fall into position behind him. "Dead sergeant in Anacostia Park."

Even the traffic cooperated with them that morning and they arrived at the crime scene in record time, Ducky and Palmer only a few minutes behind them. With his team photographing and gathering evidence, Gibbs squatted down next to where Ducky was examining the body.

"It appears the poor lad was tortured, Jethro. Look at these wounds." Since Tony was done photographing the body, Ducky and Palmer rolled the body to better show the wounds he'd noticed. There was little blood on the uniform considering the hundreds of large puncture wounds on his back.

"Tortured with what?"

It took a few seconds for Ducky to answer as they transferred the body to the plastic sheeting laid out. "That remains to be seen. Whatever it was, it certainly was not pleasant."

"Time of death?"

The liver probe had already done its work. "Approximately 0200 this morning, but Jethro," he waited until Gibbs was looking at him. "It took a long time for this man to die."

Gibbs nodded slowly as he stood before gathering the rest of his team. "What have we got so far?" He looked around as McGee and David came close. "Where's DiNozzo?"

"Here, Boss."

The voice came from behind them and up. The rest of the team looked up and saw Tony up on a nearby ridge as he explained his presence. "Found some thread from his uniform snagged on a bush. Looks like he was dumped from up here. Got some tire tracks."

Gibbs sent McGee up to take pictures of the tire tracks while he and Ziva interviewed the joggers that had found the body.

-NCIS-

Back aboard the Yard, they compiled all the information they'd gathered. Ziva started. "Our victim is Sergeant Ward, currently assigned as a recruiter. Unmarried, no family in the area. Left the office for lunch yesterday and never returned."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at that. "Nobody thought that was odd?"

DiNozzo picked up the narrative. "According to one of the other recruiters at the office, a stomach bug's been going through the place. They just figured he was the latest victim."

"He was a victim all right, but I don't think it was the flu." Gibbs turned to McGee. "Tell me you've got something."

"Maybe." The glare he got spurred McGee to stick to the facts. "I checked his phone records. Two incoming calls the morning before he disappeared. One was from a known gang enforcer that's been threatening recruiters offering gang members a way out. The second call was from a pay phone in Georgetown. I'm still waiting for Ward's detailed records. Some of his prior work was classified and his last commanding officer is being difficult."

"Stay on it, McGee. Tony, take Ziva and track down the gang angle."

While his team scattered to follow his orders, Gibbs headed down to the lower levels. His first stop was Abby's lab. "What'ya got for me, Abs?"

"Hey, Boss-man. What, no Caf-Pow?" His glare quickly sent her to her computer. "Okay, the tire tracks match up to the stock tires on a Toyota Tacoma truck anywhere from a 2002 to this year's model. No distinctive damage or wear pattern to the treads that we can match to a specific vehicle."

"So, we've got nothing."

Abby wasn't ready to give up. "Wait, I'm still running Ward's blood and the swabs Ducky took from the wounds." The familiar ding sent her running to her machines. Her face fell as she read the results. "No drugs in his blood sample and the only thing from the wound was traces of penetrating oil, the kind used to protect newly made metal objects, but you probably already knew that." She watched as Gibbs headed for the door.

"What about my Caf-Pow?" He pointed at the refrigerator unit on the wall as he went out the door. "How does he do that?"

He had a little better luck in autopsy. "Duck, talk to me."

"Well Jethro, we still haven't determined an exact cause of death, but take a look at this." Ducky and Palmer had the body face down, exposing his back. As Ducky explained what they had found so far, Palmer continued to measure the wound pattern. "Our young sergeant here was impaled by hundreds of specifically shaped spikes. All the wounds appear to be close to the same depth and size. They are also exactly two centimeters apart, and in perfect rows until you get to the joints that are involved. That distortion suggests that he was seated when the torture."

"What? He was sitting on a chair of nails?"

"Mmm, perhaps." Gibbs' comment seemed to distract Ducky for a moment and Palmer picked up the slack.

"As soon as we have a model of the wound tracts, we'll get it to Abby so she can determine what exactly was used."

-NCIS-

Palmer carefully mixed the polysulfide rubber compound with the accelerator until the color was thoroughly blended. Once that was done, he injected the mixture into a half dozen of the puncture wounds. It didn't take long to set up and once he had the impressions removed from the body, he dropped them off with Abby before leaving for lunch. Ducky just waved at him as he left, not even looking up from the research he was doing on the computer.

The term 'chair of nails' reminded Ducky of something from his days as a student at Eaton. He thought fondly back to Professor Vasquez, the eccentric old man with the obsession about the middle ages and the Spanish Inquisition. The lectures about the bizarre methods of death had set him on the path of his life's work. He started with what he remembered about the torture devices he could recall and searched from there. He found what he was looking for just as Jimmy arrived back from his lunch.

"Ah, Mr. Palmer, would you be so kind as to set this up so I can use the large plasma upstairs?"

"Of course, Doctor Mallard." Jimmy realized what he was looking at. "Is that what killed the sergeant?"

"Obviously not this exact one, but I believe one of those is the murder weapon. Come along, Mr. Palmer, it's time to show Jethro what we've found."

-NCIS-

"Ducky, do you have an exact cause of death for me?" Gibbs was surprised when Dr. Mallard and Palmer walked into the squad room right behind Tony and Ziva.

"No, but I do have a murder weapon. Mr. Palmer, if you would."

McGee managed to watch Jimmy stumble through trying to pull up the image for a few minutes before a growl from Gibbs got him taking the keyboard and doing it himself. As the image appeared on the plasma, they all stared at the spike covered chair on display in a museum in Europe. Even old, heavily rusted and cracked, its painful and lethal potential was obvious. They all settled in for one of Ducky's stories, except for Gibbs who gave him the 'cut to the chase' look.

Ducky compromised by giving the short version. "Yes, well, back in my days at Eaton we spent some time studying the history of the Inquisition, and I must admit even then I had a fascination for such macabre oddities and the deaths they caused. This was called the chair of torture and when you referred to a chair of nails, it triggered my memory. It was successful in getting confessions because of the brutally slow and painful deaths it caused. You see, Jethro, the poor victim would be impaled on those many spikes, but blood loss would be restricted because they act as plugs as long as the person is in the chair."

"And none of the spikes were long enough to damage any vital organs... sir." Palmer's words stumbled to a stop when Gibbs turned to look at him.

Gibbs looked back at the plasma before turning to Ducky. "So he bled to death when he was taken out of the chair? That's the cause of death?"

"I don't believe so. There doesn't appear to be enough blood loss to suggest exsanguination."

"So what killed him?"

Ducky gave him the look that made most of the agents squirm like naughty schoolboys, but had no effect on Gibbs. "Really Jethro, I won't know that until I complete the autopsy, but how many of those chairs are floating around the area?"

"Well, if nothing else, we know that Sergeant Ward certainly got the point." DiNozzo grinned as he braced, knowing what was coming.

*Whack*

"Thanks, Boss."

Ziva had a little more serious approach to the subject. "Why go through all the trouble to steal one of these chairs? They must all be in museums or private collections and worth a great deal of money. I assure you there are many other, cheaper, forms of torture."

Gibbs thought about the light oil found in the wounds. The kind of oil that would be used to prevent rust on a piece of steel when it was first manufactured. "The chair used on Sergeant Ward was new."

"I believe so." Ducky glanced back at the image on the wall. Over the years some of the spikes had been bent or fallen out. "The spikes that were used on the late Sergeant Ward were exactly spaced with none missing or damaged." He waited a moment, and then turned to Jimmy. "Come along, Mr. Palmer, it appears we're doing the majority of the work on this case."

Ziva continued to stare at the plasma after the elevator door closed behind Ducky and Palmer. "Why would someone build one of these chairs to kill a man?"

"Actually, that would be two questions, Ziva."

"DiNozzo's right."

"I am, Boss?"

Gibbs also turned back to the plasma. "Why the chair, and why the sergeant. Two separate questions. Anybody?"

"I might have something." It was said with such reluctance that set off alarms in Gibbs' head.

"What, McGee?"

"The annual _Shire of the Dragon Renaissance Faire_ opens in two days. One of this year's attractions is a touring exhibit of weaponry and mechanical inventions of the middle ages. I just checked with my friend there and he tells me that they are expecting some torture devices as part of the exhibit."

"The chair?"

"Don't know, Boss. All the organizers know is how much space to leave for the the exhibit. The group bringing it have requested a total blackout of information before the grand opening."

Gibbs hated secrets. "So who's bringing it and what do we know about them?"

"All they know so far is that the woman in charge is a red-head with a lot of money and even more international influence and she plays the part of French royalty at these kind of events."

DiNozzo was thinking out loud. "So if we force our way in to see if this chair is part of the exhibit, we either tip our hand to whatever suspect is involved or we cause an international incident."

"Or, most likely, both." McGee groaned, knowing what DiNozzo's reaction was going to be to his suggestion. Gibbs, he knew, would be even worse. "The only way to get in without raising suspicion would be as a participant, before it opens to the general public."

Gibbs glared at him. "A participant?"

"Yeah." McGee was very pleased that he voice didn't crack.

"In costume?"

Perhaps he thought too soon, blushing as he squeaked. "Yeah."

The idea had merit, but Gibbs was enjoying watching McGee sweat. "How do you propose we do that?" Behind him, Tony was also enjoying the show.

"I already have a spot reserved." McGee spoke more into his hand than to Gibbs.

"What was that?"

Tim took a deep breath and sat up straight. "I'm suppose to take Sarah and a group of her friends there this weekend. I've had a spot for my household reserved for over a month."

"I'll bring the Director up to speed on this." Smirking, Gibbs left McGee to defend himself against his teammates.

-NCIS-

Vance was trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably. "Let me get this straight. You and your team are going undercover at a RenFaire? In costume? Complete with codpieces?"

Gibbs was also failing at his attempt to glare at his boss. "You don't have to enjoy it quite this much, Leon."

"What if McGee is wrong and the murder isn't connected with the event?"

"You mean if I spend the weekend dressed up like some damn peacock for nothing? I'll kill him."


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n - Yep, this one is going to be fun, with a good helping of action and h/c along the way. Not all RenFaires are the same, I've chosen a few to use as a model for this story, but please understand that it may not be like a faire you've attended in the past. Thank you for all your wonderful comments, you guys are the best. - Em.**

Rule #38 was modified for this case slightly. It wasn't actually McGee's case, or Ducky's, but since they had the knowledge necessary, Gibbs took a backseat to them and it was a very nervous Timothy McGee that gathered the team in the conference room early the next morning. Director Vance's presence, silently observing, didn't help McGee's nerves.

"Since we don't know the personae that will be used by our potential suspects, we're going to have to cover all our bases."

"What does it matter how they dress? I don't even understand why we have to dress up for this search." Ziva leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. She'd heard enough from Tony to be convinced that she did not want to participate in any kind of role playing game with McGee and his nerdy friends.

McGee sighed and rubbed his face. "First of all, Ziva, the event is closed to the public the first weekend, so the only way we can get past the gate is to be part of the Faire. It's either that, or we get a search warrant and tip our hand."

Gibbs glared at DiNozzo, knowing that he'd set Ziva up to question their partner. "And that is the one thing the SecNav doesn't want to see happen until we have proof they're involved. All right, McGee, what's so important about their personae and what do we know about the people behind the personae?"

To answer his boss, McGee pulled up an image on the plasma of a striking, red-headed woman who appeared to be in her early 30's. "I ran facial recognition last night and identified her as Anja Clark, but her maiden name was Popov."

"Russian?"

"Mail order bride, Boss. Her late husband suffered a fatal heart attack a week after she became a citizen. She inherited almost three million dollars, and has built that up to a reported net worth of over ten million in just four years."

DiNozzo studied the picture. "Doing what? That's a serious upturn in business."

"Don't know. The IRS has been investigating her, but so far everything they've tracked down has been clean. Her late husband had a lot of political clout which she's now using to protect herself. All we know is that she is a huge history buff, and she travels all over the country going to various Renaissance reenactments. Always has a big entourage with her that changes at the beginning of each season. What we do know is that she usually likes to play the part of a French Duchess, so Gibbs will need to be nobility, probably no higher than a Lord, though. An English Lord is common enough that we can get away with it without someone getting suspicious. The rest of you will be spread out between the merchant class and the peasants."

This was sounding less and less fun to DiNozzo. "What about you, what are you going to be?"

They'd come to the part McGee was dreading. "I've been involved with the group for years, Tony. My persona is pretty well established. Now, our tent is going to be..."

"Excuse me, McGee, you didn't answer my question."

The rest of the group looked expectantly at him, leaving him no choice. "I am part of the Chivalry... I'm a member of the Order of Knighthood."

Surprisingly, it was Palmer that reacted first. "Really? You do all that fighting stuff? Do you joust?"

Gibbs looked amused, DiNozzo looked like he'd just been given the key to the greatest treasure. "Joust? Probie? This I've got to see."

Tim dropped his chin onto his chest. "Yes, Tony, I joust."

"How well do you know the organizers, McGee?" Gibbs was desperate to keep the group on track, before he, too, started laughing. "Is there any chance some of them could be involved with this Anja Clark?"

McGee thought for a moment. "I've known these guys for about five years now, Boss, and I trust them. She pulled some strings with the park department to force the RenFaire committee to accept her display, so they're not real happy about her being there."

"All right, so I am nobility, you are chivalry and..."

"Why can't I be a knight too?"

"Because it's an earned title. There's classes and you have to prove your understanding of the rules in addition to being able to fight in the proper style. The best I could do would be to make you my squire. Since this is the first time you'd be seen, you'd be expected to help take care of the horses and clean my armor in addition to learning to fight." McGee knew what the reaction would be.

"You mean, be your servant?" Tony immediately backed down, but Ziva found herself interested, despite her earlier displeasure.

"Are only men allowed to be knights?"

"Actually, more and more women are becoming knights, Ziva. Are you interested?"

"Perhaps. If that is where the operation needs me to be." She turned and gave a sweet smile to DiNozzo, reminding him of their priorities. Before Tony could think of a comeback, Balboa knocked and then stuck his head in through the door.

"Hey, McGee, your sister is on her way up."

Seeing the look on Gibbs' face, McGee quickly explained. "She's going to help me set up everyone's persona and help with the language lessons. You guys have to not only look the part, you have to sound the part and know your character's background, too."

"Come on, Probie, we've set up covers before."

"It's not the same thing, Tony. Do you know what names would be common in fifteenth century England? Do you know how a middle class merchant would be addressed as opposed to a nobleman or a laborer? This woman has traveled the circuit for years, she knows and she'll spot a mistake a mile away. There's only so much you can blame on being new to RenFaires. Past that, she and her people will get suspicious."

"McGee is right and we've spent enough time arguing. You take the character you're assigned, all of you." Gibbs' word was law, so the bickering stopped, helped by the arrival of Sarah McGee, with Abby in tow.

Sarah was wearing a long linen dress that swept the floor and her hair was covered with a fine cloth. She stepped in front of her brother and curtsied, holding one hand out. "Good morrow, Sir Giles. I crave your pardon for my tardiness."

Tim slipped into his persona easily and quickly. "Well met, Mistress Margerete, tis I that must beg your forgiveness, to chide a young maiden to travel unescorted, through the township." With the slightest pressure under her hand, he helped her upright. "Thou hav'st bringest the traveling trunks?"

"Aye, the guardsmen have thy trunks and garb. Pray, dost they believe me to be a cutpurse?

"Take no offense, sweet lady, tis the custom of this kingdom." McGee watched the team out of the corner of his eye. Gibbs seemed amused, while Ziva was obviously enthralled, all complaints now gone. DiNozzo, not surprisingly, looked like he'd hit the mother lode of treasures to tease him with for the next millennium.

Instead of letting it bother him, McGee escorted his sister as if he were presenting her to royalty, because in a sense, he was. "Director Vance, may I present Margerete Baldshawe of Dunroth. Mistress Margerete is a roving merchant at the Faire. She doth provide a fine meal to the fighters as we defend the crown."

Vance couldn't help but smile as he stood and took Sarah's hand. "Welcome to the land of NCIS, milady."

Ignoring DiNozzo's muffled laugh, McGee continued the introduction. "Mistress Margerete, may I present Leon Vance, the Director of NCIS."

Sarah dropped into a lower curtsy as her hands fluttered to her veil. "Master Edmondes, thou didnst tell me I would be meeting royalty this day." She stood and took three steps backwards, never turning away from Vance, before bowing once again. "Your Majesty, it is an honor to serve."

This time Tony couldn't hold back his laughter and McGee turned to glare at him. "Tony, you may think this is all silly and stupid, but it's the only link we have to the murder of Sergeant Ward."

"McGee's right, DiNozzo." Gibbs had a lot more to say to his senior agent, but Sarah sharply threw her hand up, stopping him. The crisp linen of her gown snapped as she spun to face DiNozzo, still in character. "Thou mockest thy King? Lesser men have been drawn and quartered for such offenses. Sir Giles is sadly mistaken if he doth believe this tosspot can be made into a gentleman before our kingdom opens." She circled around him as if inspecting a piece of meat, much to the amusement of the rest of the group. "Verily, he is more suited to clean the porta-castle."

Vance was wondering if McGee had ever discussed career options with his sister, as she had quite the flare for undercover work. "Mistress Margerete, he may be a scoundrel, but he could be of some use."

"Perchance." She finished her circuit around DiNozzo, stopping to face him. "Thou should be grateful to have such a wise and forgiving King."

"Oh, yeah, he is that." DiNozzo still thought Vance was having way too much fun.

"Thou art an embossed carbuncle, but thy mayst be of some use at the Bawdy Bosom. Mistress Gayle can always use a strong back to haul the ale."

To his credit, DiNozzo was trying very hard not to laugh. "The Bawdy Bosom?"

Tim knew that would get DiNozzo's attention. "The shapeliest bar wenches in three kingdoms."

Even Palmer straightened up at that, and DiNozzo grinned at him. "Might not be so bad after all, Jimmy."

Vance looked over his team and their guest. "All right, people, it looks like you are going to have your work cut out for you. What do you need, McGee?"

Just like that it was business as usual. "Our first step will be fitting the team in appropriate garb. We've managed to borrow a great deal from a friend that sells clothing at the Faire. Once we've fit everyone we can begin on personae."

Ziva frowned as she listened, not understanding. "Would it not be quicker to do both at the same time?" Gibbs, on the other hand, was beginning to understand.

"Different clothing, different character."

"Exactly." Tim breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been worried about how Gibbs would take the whole dress up part of the assignment. "If you end up wearing an Italian doublet, then you shouldn't have an Irish name. We have a limited amount of garb to work with, so we start there."

Vance's assistant came in with a large stack of pages that she handed to Sarah with a smile. Sarah thanked her and began handing them out. "While Tim and I are working with each of you on that, the rest can study these cheat sheets I wrote up for you. It's terms, phrases and proper forms of address when you are speaking in character. You noticed that Tim was either Sir Giles or Master Edmondes because he is a knight. Sir is used with his persona's given name, while Master is used with the surname."

Gibbs flipped through the hand-out Sarah had carefully prepared. She had been thorough, there was even a page on period appropriate swear words. "All right, people, we've got our work cut out for us. McGee, who do you want to start with?"

He knew he wasn't brave enough to discuss sixteenth century underwear options with Ziva, so Tim quickly made an executive decision. "Why doesn't Sarah start with Abby and Ziva? She can handle the fitting of their dresses first while I check the inquiries I made into Sergeant Ward's previous work details. Then Sarah can start putting together their names and personae while I work with costuming the men." He turned to Vance. "Eventually, we'll need two conference rooms, one as a fitting room and one as a work room."

Vance thought for a moment. "Room three is the most private. I'll have the MP's move the trunks in there as your second room. Is there anything else you need?"

"Could I hook my laptop into the network here?" They turned back at Sarah's question as she explained her reasoning. "I have probably a hundred research sites bookmarked on my computer. It will be a lot quicker if I don't have to track them all back down again. I'm willing to have someone in cybercrimes check my keystroke log when I'm done, if that helps. I understand that it can't be Tim."

He'd been planning on a remote observer for her computer activities while aboard the Yard, but her offer showed Vance that Sarah was taking the agency's security seriously. "I'll have someone from CCU come up and get you set up in here."

Gibbs stood and carefully started herding Ducky toward the door. He knew the older Scot would be intrigued by the research. He was, of course, too late.

"Sarah, my dear, how much research is involved? Such a fascinating time of history, are your characters based on historical figures, or are they..."

"Later, Duck. Let's let the girls get to work." Some days keeping the older man on target was like chicken herding.

"But Jethro, this is quite interesting, and you know history is a passion of mine. I could..."

"Cause of death, Ducky." Once he had Dr. Mallard through the door, Gibbs turned back to Sarah. "Start with Abby, I need her back in the lab."


	3. Chapter 3

**a/n - Glad you're having fun with me on this one. The site was acting wonky yesterday, so I hope everyone got to read chapter 2.**

"How often do you get to go out into the field? I thought you were pretty confined to the lab."

Abby was much more interested in the trunks of clothing that Sarah was opening. "What? Oh, yeah, usually I don't get to go anywhere, but Gibbs is getting some portable lab equipment for me. He and Vance decided that having me on-site to do the preliminary testing would help maintain the chain of evidence better. Say, do you have one of those cool dresses with the big, stand up collar? Like the queen wore?"

Sarah had to smile at the enthusiasm of the older woman. "An Elizabethan gown with a standing ruff. They're beautiful, but only nobility wear dresses like that at the RenFaire. Besides, camping outside isn't really conducive to wearing silk and velvet all day."

"I suppose." Abby touched the spiderweb on the side of her neck. "Besides, these tattoos probably aren't really period, are they?"

"You'd probably get some odd looks dressed as a Royal, but some characters would work well with them." Sarah was looking for something specific as she went through the trunks. In the bottom of the third trunk she found her prize and stood with a grin. "How about a Gypsy?"

"A Gypsy?" Bright green eyes widened as a smile crossed Abby's face. "Really?"

Sarah returned the smile. "Sure. The Roma were known as Gypsies back then. They were exotic and different, in fact they wore big hoop earrings, which were unusual then. Since a lot of the Gypsies were fortune tellers, you would have a reason to be with any group at the Faire." Sarah held up a light weight woolen blanket. It was black with red edging, and several ribbons were sewn to one of the longer sides. Abby took the blanket as it was handed to her while Sarah returned to the trunk.

Ten minutes later, Abby was wearing a traditional long white chemise and saffron colored bodice. She was a little disappointed that it didn't accentuate her bust. "It's not very sexy."

"Only bar wenches can get away with BOP's"

"BOP's?" Waiting her turn, Ziva asked before Abby could.

Sarah held her hands in front of her, as if they were holding something up. "Boobs on a platter."

Ziva immediately understood. "That explains The Bawdy Bosom. Tony will be quite happy."

As the three women shared a laugh, Sarah pulled out two long skirts and handed them to Abby. "You wear them both, but tuck one side of the hem of the top one into the waistband, so part of the other one is visible." Abby quickly donned them, putting the blue skirt over the red one and loving how the fabric swirled around her ankles as she moved. Soft leather slippers felt very different than her usual platforms, but they were surprisingly comfortable. A turban was added, which Ziva helped her wrap around her head as Sarah explained the proper way to wear the blanket as an outer garment, using the ribbons to secure it over her right shoulder. Once she was wearing it, Abby realized how much she could carry hidden in the folds and the discrete pockets that had been sewn into the inside.

"This is perfect, Sarah. I could have dozens of samples hidden and no one would know." Abby held her arms out and hugged Sarah. "They didn't hug much back then, so I've got to get them in now."

Ziva was impressed with Abby's appearance, but had concerns for her own garments. "We are after murder suspects, and as beautiful as these dresses may be..."

"They're not exactly made to chase bad guys through the park." Sarah finished for her with a grin. "Don't worry, Tim warned me that your clothes had to be practical, and he also said you might be a squire."

"Yes, even though the case is our priority, I must admit the jousting and fighting sounds a little intriguing."

The way her eyes lit up told Sarah that Ziva was more than a little interested in the fighting aspect. "Well, when you're on the list, or battlefield, no one will question you wearing a doublet and hosen, otherwise..." Her voice faced off as her head was buried in one of the trunks. This time her search was quicker as she'd seen what she needed while she was gathering Abby's garments. Sarah turned and held out what looked like a full-length coat in a rich brown brocade with a gold colored lining.

"It's beautiful." Ziva couldn't help but brush her fingers across the fabric.

"And exotic, at least for this time period." Sarah handed her the garment before picking up the rest of the outfit. "This is what women in the Ottoman Empire would wear. The pants are called shalwar and the shirt is called a gomlek. You're holding the caftan. Since the caftan doesn't button all the way to the floor, it's pretty easy to move in. We add a simple cap and of course the veil to cover your hair, and you're set. I've also got the doublet and hosen for when you are Tim's squire." Ziva also took the green and blue outfit Sarah handed her next as she continued to talk. "Now we can start with names and details while Tim gets the guys set up with clothes."

-NCIS-

"So, what do we have on Ward? DiNozzo, anything stand out in his personal life? What about the gang troubles the recruiters were having? McGee, have you gotten any answers about his previous posting?" Gibbs leaned back and crossed his arms, while the two younger agents scrambled to answer.

DiNozzo was the first to the remote for the plasma, and pulled up a picture of a beautiful woman. "Not much on the personal front, Boss. This is his ex-girlfriend, Carla Hampton, who dumped him a few months ago for a movie producer. She's currently in the Bahamas, where he's filming his latest movie, and has been for the last three weeks." Tony gave one last, lingering look at the plasma before handing the remote to McGee. "As much as it pains me to say this, I can't even come up with anything to justify questioning her. Ward hadn't signed or really even talked to any gang members yet, so nothing on that front. It looks like the threat, was just that, a threat, and nothing more."

Now that he had the remote, McGee quickly loaded a series of photos. "Ward's previous assignment was as part of the security team at a research facility in California. It's a weapons development facility, Boss. They admitted that there was a security breech about six months ago that Ward investigated, but no arrests were made. According to his supervisor, Ward wanted the transfer to the East coast after his relationship with Miss Hampton ended, and he was sad to see him leave, but he seemed more nervous than upset to hear that Sergeant Ward was murdered."

"You think he's hiding something?"

"Yeah, Boss, I do. Ward spent the last ten years of duty handling high end military security. He had a lot of options open to him if he wanted to get away from California. It doesn't make sense that he'd end up as an extra recruiter in an already over staffed office."

Gibbs could tell that McGee was working up to something, and he was pretty sure he knew what it was. "You think his job as a recruiter was a front."

"He was still working on the security breech right up to the day he transferred, and the recruiter's job was a step backwards for him. Either it was a front, or he pissed off somebody that's higher up the food chain. I'd need to see how far he got tracking the breech, but they're not real receptive to letting us see the files on Ward's investigation."

"We'll let Vance handle that end of it." Gibbs looked upstairs to see the three ladies moving back to the other conference room. "Looks like it's time for our fitting, DiNozzo."

"Oh, Joy."

-NCIS-

The cocky man had a great deal more he would have liked to say, but the smirking face of Leon Vance watching from above silenced him as he and Gibbs followed McGee up the stairs. Ducky and Palmer arrived via the elevator just seconds behind them.

"I must say, Timothy, I am finding this to be quite exciting. The history of the time period portrayed is fascinating."

That was Ducky's catchphrase of the case it seemed, and Palmer gave an indulgent smile. "I'm looking forward to seeing my character. I've always wanted to go to a RenFaire." He struck a dramatic pose. "Od's bodikins, 'twixt yesternight and now, verily, my joy has been reached."

As Palmer and Ducky followed McGee into the room, Gibbs and DiNozzo were frantically flipping through the cheat sheets Sarah had made them.

"Did he just insult us, Boss?"

"Hell if I know, DiNozzo."


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm glad to see you guys are liking this one. The site's being wonky, though and not recording visitors correctly because for a while I had more reviewers than readers. BTW, I may tease our Timmy, but never to the point of hurting him.**

Ducky was already picking through the trunks by the time Gibbs closed the door. Tim checked his voice mail while he waited, as the trunk that was being pawed through held all feminine attire, but he didn't laugh as the elderly doctor turned to him holding up a stuffed and padded tube of fabric shaped like the letter C.

"That's a bum roll, Ducky." He waited while Ducky turned to glance down at his own backside. "Elizabethan women wore them, not the men."

"Ah, of course, a sign of wealth was a pleasingly plump woman, I do believe."

Tony didn't look all that thrilled at that tidbit, so McGee moved them along, closing the trunks Sarah had been using and opening several more. "Okay, Tony, you still all right with working at the Bawdy Bosom? Most of the men at the Faire are there at some point. It will be a good chance to grab some images for facial recognition."

"Is the bum the only thing padded?"

*whack*

"Thanks, Boss."

To keep the teasing down to a minimum, McGee didn't want to waste any time, but DiNozzo quickly had his hands in the trunk of men's clothing. He came up with what looked like two legs of thick tights. "Are these what I think they are? I mean, something's missing." To prove his point, he waved them around, showing that they weren't attached to each other. They were designed to end at the top of the thigh, with only the outside edge continuing up to attach to a tie around the waist.

"What's the matter, Tony, you turning shy on us?" Gibbs couldn't help but grin at his senior agent, before turning to the younger one. "I assume that's where the codpiece comes into play?"

McGee smiled and nodded before Gibbs had a worrying thought. "They did wear underwear in the Middle Ages, right? There was some sort of boxers?"

"Of course, Boss. They were called braies, but they're not really boxers." Tim saw the expression building on Gibbs' face and hurried to finish. "They're more like tighty-whiteys."

Tony's attention kept shifting from the bum roll Ducky had dropped on the table to the pair of leggings he had in his hands. "Can I at least have pants that cover my bum?"

"Sure, Tony." McGee pulled out a pair of pants that were cut similar to modern day trousers, but in a coarsely woven fabric of dull blue. "A lot of guys aren't comfortable with hosen, so these are an accepted compromise. When he saw DiNozzo wince at the feel of the rough material, he grinned and revealed a secret. "Relax, they're lined. Otherwise, your delicate legs would be shredded by the end of the weekend."

Tony was almost as grateful for the soft cotton layer hidden in the pants as he was for the fact that his backside would be covered. Several linen shirts and a green woolen tunic completed his new wardrobe as McGee continued to explain. "The tunic works as a coat, and you'll need to be able to have a clean shirt for each shift at the Bawdy Bosom."

"Makes sense, what's that?" Tim handed him a hat and what, at first, looked like a lightweight wool tube, the rusty red contrasting with the green tunic.

"It's a hood. We'll set you up with a wire and a small camera hidden in it. You'll be our direct link to MTAC while we're there."

While Tony was trying on the hood, Ducky was back examining the contents of the trunks. "I don't suppose you would happen to have..."

"Did they have kilts back then?" Palmer knew how proud Ducky was of his heritage.

"Not exactly kilts, but..." McGee paused as he pulled out a long linen shirt and a massive piece of plaid fabric.

Ducky's eyes grew large as he reached out to reverently take them. "A leine and an authentic brat. Timothy, you have done your research, lad, thank you. I remember my great-grandfather telling me about them when I was just a wee one, but I've never actually had the opportunity to see them, and certainly never to wear one." He didn't hesitate to strip down and pull on the leine. Looking like an oversized shirt, it hung well past his knees, Next he took the lengthy fabric and expertly wound it around himself until the end hung off his shoulder. McGee handed him a thick belt which Ducky wrapped around his waist, securing the brat and pulling up the leine so it just brushed his knees. As he dressed, he regaled them with a story of an early visit with his great-grandfather, and as he continued to ramble on, his voice deepened as his accent became more pronounced, almost making some of his words hard to understand.

"I've got you listed with the Faire as a Chirurgeon, which is a medic, but would you mind also playing the part of a wandering storyteller?" McGee knew it was pretty much a rhetorical question, especially when he saw the smile.

Gibbs shook his head and grinned. His old friend was in his element with this case, and the garb was the icing on the cake. "Well, that was easy. What have you got for Palmer? We need he and Ducky to get back to determining cause of death."

"We need Palmer to also be doing double duty. Since you guys are coming instead of the friends that were planned, Sarah lost her helpers for the food cart she runs. It's going to be pretty hot this weekend, so pickles and lemonade with be a big selling item and she will need the help for at least a few hours a day."

"You want me to sell food?"

Jimmy looked a little disappointed, so Tim rushed to tell his reasons. "The roving vendors are the show people of the Faire. You're already further ahead in the speech than anyone else and you really have a flare for it, Jimmy. Besides, at the big events a food cart is expected and it will give you a perfect reason to interact with anyone there."

Apparently mollified, Jimmy nodded. "Okay, that makes sense. So, what do I wear?"

Tim had quickly realized that Palmer was a lot like himself and could shine as a character while being personally too shy to reach out. Earlier he'd thought about a jester for Jimmy, as he knew he could juggle, but the elaborate outfit would be risky with the rolling cart. Instead, he picked up the pair of hosen that Tony had been tossing around earlier and a multicolored cotehardie. One side of the long, fitted shirt was yellow, the other side green, although a brighter shade of green than the hosen. Even though there was a codpiece, Jimmy felt comfortable in the hosen as the brightly colored top reached almost to his knees.

One last dig through the trunk produced a bright red hat. The brim was thick and cushioned, reminiscent of a turban, while the fabric of the rest of the hat was gathered up at the top center to cascade down one side. If Jimmy's beaming face was any indications, it was the perfect finishing touch.

Behind them, Tony had to grumble. "The Autopsy Gremlin gets to be a dandy and I'm stuck as a laborer at the tavern. What's wrong with this picture, Boss."

Gibbs was finding the whole thing much more amusing than he'd ever admit as he leaned over to whisper in Tony's ear. "Just remember, he gets the pickles, you get the bar wenches."

"Oh, yeah."

-NCIS-

Tim quickly discovered that it was much harder to get Ducky and Jimmy out of their costumes than it was to ever get the two men into them, but eventually he regained possession of the garments and Gibbs sent them back down to autopsy and Tony off to study his vocabulary.

Once they were alone, Gibbs sat on the corner of the table and gave McGee an approving nod. "Looks like you've really thought this out, McGee."

He could feel his ears turning red. Praise was a rare thing from Gibbs. "Thanks, Boss. I never would have expected my hobby to intersect with a case like this."

Gibbs had been waiting for the opening. "Why didn't we know about this hobby of yours? Sarah tells me that you're one of the more successful fighters on the circuit."

"Didn't want to give Tony any more ammo to tease me with." Tim ducked his head and waited for the hand to connect. When that didn't happen, he looked back up in surprise. Gibbs was just grinning.

"I think watching a few rounds of jousting will make DiNozzo one of your biggest fans. Are you doing any siege fighting this weekend?"

Tim made a mental note to strangle his sister after the case was solved. "I'm scheduled to, but it'll depend on the investigation. I did get you authorized for archery if you'd like."

"Really?" Gibbs was intrigued enough to allow McGee to distract him with this. "How'd you manage that?"

"Called in a few favors. One of the participants won't be there for the opening weekend, so they're short a Nobel. You're now an Earl, which makes you the highest ranked Nobel at the Faire without a wife, so..."

Gibbs saw exactly where McGee was headed. "I can court a noble lady, and get close to our suspect."

"Exactly, especially since it looks like she's given herself a promotion to Princess."

There was one worry, though. "Can you teach me enough by tomorrow to pull it off?"

"The language may be different, but most of it boils down to honor and respect. You're a Marine, Boss, you're already halfway there."


	5. Chapter 5

**a/n - Umm, okay, ouch. For those of you who are reading this one, thank you. I should have the next chapter of _Puppet Master _up tomorrow.**

After the dinner break, Sarah handed Tim a large box that had just been delivered. "Are you sure about this, Tim?" Gibbs watched the exchange closely, but didn't interrupt.

"I'm sure, Sarah. Gibbs has to look the part. This will be perfect." Tim returned to the table and set the box down while Sarah peered over his shoulder.

Curious, Gibbs leaned closer to look as Tim opened the box. Black velvet was visible, but it had a red glow to it from the lining as Tim lifted it out of the box. Now free, it was apparent that McGee was holding a short cloak, trimmed in luxurious gold and red embroidery. Sarah took the cloak as Tim laid out each of the layers of the outfit, identifying them as he went.

The first item was a linen shirt. "You'll be asked about your garb, the details are important. The shirt is made of Irish linen, the collar and cuffs are embroidered. They're removable, and there's an extra set if case these get dirty." The next two items were another shirt, this time much heavier looking and a matching pair of what appeared to be close fitting shorts. Both were in a rich red.

Gibbs reached out and touched the fabric. "Silk?"

"Shot silk." Tim moved one of the sleeves to show the difference. As the light hit the fabric at a different angle, it looked almost burgundy. "See, there's a second color woven into the fabric, but you can only see it at certain angles. The top is called a doublet, the breeches are also called canions. Next we have the slops."

'Poofy pants' was on the tip of Gibbs' tongue, but he kept silent as he looked closely. They looked like short, poofy pants at first, but he could see that they were made of strips of the black velvet, with more of the red silk showing through. Each strip was heavily embroidered with the same gold as the cape. Even the codpiece was equally covered in golden stitches. The slops were much shorter than the canions, which were knee length.

Another black velvet piece joined the pile. It looked like a vest with the same trim as the cape. "Okay, Boss, this is the jerkin, it goes over the doublet." The last items added to the pile were a pair of leather gloves with black silk gauntlets and a tall arch brim hat.

Sarah's earlier comments and the wistful expression on Tim's face as he handed over the jerkin told Gibbs the backstory of this particular garment. "This is pretty elaborate, McGee. It was supposed to be yours, wasn't it?"

His sister didn't give him a chance to answer. "Tim had it commissioned last year after he won the jousting championship. She just finished it this week."

Tim shrugged as Gibbs looked back at him. "Like I said, you need to look the part if you're going to catch Anja's attention and this kind of garb is all one of a kind and custom made. There's no time to get a new set of clothing made, this has never been seen by anyone there and it will fit you. We really don't have a lot of choice."

Gibbs felt like the guy who wrecked somebody else's brand new car before they even got to drive it. Knowing that Tim would brush it off, he instead turned to Sarah. "Make sure we get the receipts for all the clothing we're using, especially this one."

She nodded and left the room, and her brother immediately changed the subject. "We need to have a cover story as to why you haven't been around the last few years, something that will explain any lack of knowledge."

Gibbs could tell that the younger man was working on a plan, but before it could be verbalized, his phone rang and they were on their way to autopsy.

-NCIS-

"What 'ya got, Duck?" Gibbs arrived in autopsy, the rest of the team at his heels. Ducky and Palmer looked rather pleased with themselves as they looked up from the body on the table.

At a nod from Ducky, Palmer brought over a metal pan that contained Sergeant Ward's heart. He held it out for the team to look at as Ducky explained what they were looking at. "When we found fresh damage to the heart, we assumed that the stress and torture may have caused a mild heart attack, but upon further examination, I discovered that the damage was caused by an electrical current."

"He was electrocuted? There's no burns on the body."

"Quite right, Jethro, a thorough exam showed that there are no electrical burns on the body."

"But..."

Jimmy couldn't stand the suspense. "The burns are on the inside. Inside the wounds from some of the spikes."

"Yes, well," Ducky was a little disappointed that he didn't get the honor of breaking the news, but it really was Jimmy's discovery. "Mr. Palmer has been examining each of the puncture wounds to see if there was any debris left behind and he discovered that two of the wounds have burned flesh, one on his upper left shoulder and one on his lower right side."

Gibbs immediately understood what had happened. "The current crossed his heart."

"Causing instant arrhythmia and then death. It was quite clever, to be honest. They tortured the poor chap, and then when they were done with him, they just flipped a switch. He was dead before they removed him from the chair, thus the lack of excessive bleeding."

Tony looked back and forth between Gibbs and Ducky as he listened to them and put the pieces together. "If they killed him, does that mean they got whatever information they were after?"

Gibbs was not pleased with these new developments. "Looks that way, DiNozzo."

-NCIS-

This was one Thursday night that Leon Vance did not mind missing out on a home cooked meal, as his visitors from the 'other kingdom' were scheduled to arrive any moment. Right on cue, his door opened and his assistant poked her head in, wearing a huge grin. "Director Vance, Sir Giles and his party have arrived." Vance leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together behind his head.

"Very well, send them in. You may join us if you'd like." The giggle he got in response told him that she'd like to, very much.

McGee, or actually, Sir Giles as Vance reminded himself, entered the office first. Fresh from Ziva's first lesson as a squire, he was in partial armor, his helmet tucked under his arm. Perhaps it was the shoes, but the usually bashful man seemed taller as he strode in to stand in front of the desk. Vance decided to go for it. "Sir Giles, welcome."

The young knight raised his closed fist to his heart as he bowed. "Director, please allow me to introduce my household." Stepping to the side, his hand now swept out to greet a young woman. Today Sarah was wearing the same linen dress but this time it was covered with a second gown with deep sweeping armholes that revealed the underdress to her waist. Her hair was braided with a ribbon around her head and a sheer veil was in place today. "Mistress Margerete Baldshawe of Dunroth, a roving merchant at the Faire, providing food and drink to the populace."

Vance found himself tilting his head in acknowledgment as she curtsied deeply before stepping backwards to stand off to the side. If it weren't for the tattoo on her neck, he would not have recognized his forensic scientist as she came in, sans make-up and platform boots. Her curtsy was stiffer but met with Sir Giles' approval.

"Good day, sire. I am known by the public as Amphelicia Faw. Prithee, might I tell his majesty a fortune? Just two shillings."

Amused, Vance turned for an explanation. With a nod, McGee gave the details. "The Romany, or Gypsies as the outsiders refer to them, do not speak their given names outside their community. They take a given name of the region for when they must deal with outsiders and Faw is an ethnic term of Gypsies in northern England and therefore used often as a surname."

"I see. Welcome to our kingdom, Mistress Amphelicia."

"Just Amphelicia, sire. N'er no proper blood in me and mine." Abby stepped to the side to join Sarah as Palmer came through the door. Without glasses he looked much different even if Vance ignored the bright colors he was wearing and the basket he was carrying.

"Good morrow, your Majesty. I am Alfonso Lourenco de Narayola, Castilian by birth, and have come to your fair kingdom to seek my fortune. Would you like to buy a pickle?"

"No, I'm good." Vance was very proud of himself for keeping a straight face, at least until Dr. Mallard charged in.

"I be Donnchadh mac Domhnaill mhic Fearchair. I dinnae ken yee kirk or thr'n. Ken whit I me'n?"

He obviously was expecting an answer and Vance smiled and nodded before shaking his head and turning to his translator.

Sir Giles spoke in a quiet voice as to not upset the excitable Scot. "His name is Duncan, son of Donald, who is the son of Farquhar. He doesn't know if you follow the Church or the Throne. I'm afraid he still has not forgiven King Edward I for the Great Slaughter or for removing the Stone of Destiny."

Vance froze, not having a clue how to respond. In the background, his assistant was giggling.

With one last glare at the possibly English leader, the tartan clad man stormed off to be soothed by the fortune teller and DiNozzo sauntered in with a grin on his face "Good day, your grace. I'm Edwarde Oxton of Durham. Mistress Margerete may think me a tosspot, but in truth, taint nothing wrong with a bit of ale after a..." A loud clucking from the good mistress stopped whatever else he was about to tell and he quickly changed his tune. "Zounds, my mistress will surely have my backside striped with a belt if she finds me dallying. Fare thee well, my Lord."

The next arrival was quiet and elegant. Sir Giles met her at the door and escorted her in to stand in front of the desk. "Your Majesty, may I present the gracious Amira bint Da'ud, a recent arrival from the far away Ottoman Empire. Lady Amira has done me the honor of becoming my squire."

Ziva's curtsy was low, with sweeping arms. "Your Grace, it is an honor."

Vance dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Welcome, Lady Amira. I hope your journey was a pleasant one." A mysterious smile and a tip of the head was his only answer.

The next arrival came through the door in a swirl of black velvet and red silk, leaning on a carved ebony walking stick. Instead of moving straight to the desk, he stopped in front of Vance's young assistant. "Tis a wondrous kingdom to have such a beauteous young maiden. Pray, wil'st thou walk with me?" He bowed deeply before kissing her hand. Giggling, she allowed him to escort her to Vance's desk where he introduced himself.

"My Lord, I am Jeames Hadricke, Earl of Bedford and a guest of my former squire, Sir Giles Edmondes. Verily, an accident in the modern world has kept me from visiting yon Faire for many years." Hat in hand, a sweeping bow finished his introduction.

Tim filled in the rest. "Lord Bedford is the only unmarried noble in attendance this year, and thus the only proper suitor for the Princess."

"Perfect." Vance gave the group one last look. Every possibility was covered and they seemed comfortable with their characters. McGee and his sister had done an excellent job in prepping the team. "Well done, all of you. Tim, Sarah, you two especially have gone above and beyond."

Gibbs wanted to make sure Vance was fully aware of just how much his agent had undertaken. "Leon, all this garb has come out of McGee's pocket, not to mention all the other expenses to get the team into position."

"Make sure all the receipts come to me and I'll personally take care of it. Now, are we all set for tomorrow?"

It was after 2100 and most of the group nodded, but Tim shook his head. "I really hoped to go over setting up the tent before we get there in the morning, but it's too dark."

Gibbs patted him on the back. "It's a tent, McGee. How hard can it be?"


	6. Chapter 6

**a/n - Still having fun? Good, but put the food and drinks away for this chapter. Yeah, I'm serious.**

* * *

"What is that?" Gibbs stared at the wooden circle laying on the ground, its twin only a few feet away. They both looked like the centers of wagon wheels, complete with holes for the spokes.

Sarah grinned at him as she jumped down from the truck bed. "You've never seen tent hubs before?"

"Umm, no, we haven't." DiNozzo stumbled past, a worried look on his face as he and Palmer carried a canvas bag of something heavy. "I, for one, am a city boy. Gibbs is the tent and camping guy."

Gibbs glared at them and then looked back at McGee, who was still up in the truck. He shouldn't have been surprised by anything now, but seeing McGee and his sister pull into the Navy Yard in a loaded pick-up truck, pulling an equally loaded trailer had been a shock. Looking down at the strange pieces, he wished he'd gotten some lights last night and let McGee teach them how to set up this damn tent.

McGee was grinning, he knew exactly what was going through Gibbs' head, but he valued his own head too much to gloat. Instead, he concentrated on the task at hand. With a trained crew, setting up camp was a busy endeavor, with a team of wide-eyed newbies, it was going to be a challenge. "Okay, people, we've got a little more than three hours to get the camp set up and get into garb. Sarah, start the lay-out, the rest of you keep unloading. Stack everything except what's marked with a blue feather against the far end of our plot."

"If it has a feather?" Ziva held up a small bag with a painted feather on it.

Tim pointed to the other end of their marked off section. "Over there."

They may have been newbies, but it didn't take long to unload McGee's truck and trailer plus all the personal gear that was in Gibbs' truck. Gibbs wiped the sweat off his forehead and accepted the water bottle Ducky tossed to him. It wasn't even 0800 and it was already getting warm. "Okay, so how do we set up these tents?"

"Your center pole, M'Lord."

Gibbs stared at the pole Sarah had handed him. It didn't even come up to his shoulders. DiNozzo leaned close. "It's a tent for pygmies, Boss."

*Whack*

"Thanks, Boss."

Under Sarah's supervision, Gibbs pounded the pointed end of the pole into the ground where she'd marked, vaguely aware of Tim doing the same thing with Ducky and Palmer at the other end of their encampment.

"Thy magic string."

"The what?"

Gibbs stared at the long loop of string she'd dropped into his hand, with three metal rings attached to it. She rolled her eyes and started the process. The two men quickly caught onto how she used the string to quickly and precisely mark where each of the outer tent stakes would go. The large ring went over the center pole while the other two rings showed where to put the first two stakes. The ring from stake one was moved to stake two and the now empty ring gave the exact location for the next tent stake. As they worked their way around, it was soon apparent that the tent was circular and very large, as was the one being assembled under Tim's supervision. Abby and Ziva scrambled to bring poles to each group. As soon as they had all the poles in the ground, Sarah and Tim started them on the assembly of the spokes into the hubs. Sooner than he'd have thought possible, the hub and spokes were on the ground, with the canvas laid out over the top, the doors of the two tents facing each other, and the real, very heavy, center pole was used to lift everything into place.

By 0900, an amazed Gibbs and DiNozzo were standing inside a very large, airy tent. Overhead, the spokes were well above their heads, allowing even the tall men to walk around freely. Past the spokes the tent continued up to a center point, with an opening vent at the top, giving a slight breeze through the entire structure. Sarah stepped in, carrying more canvas. "These dividers can be added later. You just tie them to the spokes."

"This is quite a set-up, nicer than any modern tent I've ever used."

Sarah smiled at her brother's boss. "Tim did a great job with them."

"Probie made this?"

Once the two tents were done, the rest of the camp went together quickly. A large sunshade and an outdoor kitchen completed the layout. Modern conveniences such as the ice chests were either tucked away inside the tents or camouflaged and soon the entire encampment looked like it had been transported from long ago. As Gibbs and McGee moved the two trucks to the parking area, Abby grabbed her camera and took pictures, Ziva following behind.

"This is so cool."

"Agreed. Did you know McGee was involved in any of this, Abby?"

"No, he never mentioned a word."

-NCIS-

In his own truck, Gibbs followed McGee to the parking area, frowning a little when McGee passed up the first row and instead parked on the other side of a small grove of trees. Once they were both out and walking back, Tim explained. "Over here is where the emergency vehicles park. I got us permission to park there in case we have to leave in a hurry."

"Good thinking, McGee." Gibbs reached out and squeezed Tim's neck. "Vance was right, you've really put a lot of thought into planning this out for us. Ya did good, Elflord."

"Thanks, Boss. Now, are you ready for your lesson on using a medieval longbow? The Archery Marshall is going to work with you before we officially start."

Gibbs knew he was grinning like a kid, but he didn't care. "Oh, yeah, I'm ready. Lead on, Macduff."

With a knowledge of modern archery already established, Gibbs quickly took to the English longbow, learning to lean into the bow to bend it rather than pull the string back as French and modern archers would do. All too soon the lesson was over and it was time to change into garb for the official opening.

"Thank you for all your help, sir." Gibbs had been more than surprised to find the Archery Marshall was a retired Marine Corps officer he'd known overseas. "It's good to see you again Captain Miller."

"You too, Gunny." He looked down at his watch. "And in about an hour it will be Sir Deric from the low country. When you decide to make yourself your own bow, come see me and I'll get you started."

The hand carved bow made of Yew wood had intrigued Gibbs even more than the massive tents they 'd assembled. "Yes, sir, you can count on it."

By the time they returned to the camp, the rest of the group was already in garb. McGee stopped to make one final check on the ropes keeping the tents taunt, while Gibbs went into the men's tent to start the process of dressing in the many layers of nobility. DiNozzo was still in there, lacing up his boots.

Gibbs paused, realizing that the only mirror was in the women's tent. Not able to see his backside, he turned to the other man for help. "DiNozzo, I never thought I'd ever ask this, but are my stockings on straight?"

Ducky was quick to assure the group that Tony had not given himself a concussion falling onto the ground laughing. The headslaps, however, were possibly a different matter.


	7. Chapter 7

**a/n - Morning folks, have a good weekend? Hottest weekend of the year around here, but it was downright chilly compared to where my oldest son is. 117 at Fort Benning, Georgia.**

Introductory meetings were long, boring and repetitious, no matter the century and as soon as it was over, the participants scattered. Anja Clark skipped the meeting, as she and her people were still assembling the large pavilion for their display, so she missed the official welcome made to the returning and still recovering Lord Jeames, but gossip soon gave her the details. As hoped, the apparently frail, but obviously wealthy single man seemed to catch her attention as they noticed her watching as they went back to their camp.

Final details of garb were added. Ziva, Palmer and Abby had mini cameras added to their headwear in addition to Tony, and Gibbs insisted that the one civilian in the group have a whistle hidden in her basket. Seeing the worry in her brother's face, Sarah agreed, knowing that the team was after a murderer and she could be considered the weak link. Of course the fact that she was training for the women's siege fighting championship hadn't come up yet.

Plans made, the group set out. Sarah introduced the brash Edwarde Oxton to Mistress Gayle and the bar wenches of the Bawdy Bosom. Mistress Gayle's slaps were a bit south of Gibbs' usual target, but they did get him moving and bringing in supplies to prepare for the tavern's opening later that evening.

Once Tony was set up in what would be the hub of activity most evenings, Sarah and Palmer went to the prep center for the food vendors. Palmer was pleasantly surprised at how modern and professional the food service was, hidden behind the scenes. They were sharing a trailer with a woman who specialized in breakfasts, so there would only be a slight overlap between them. Once the health inspection was finished, they headed out with a cart of lemonade and pasties and a basket of pickles. As they sold lunch to the participants, Palmer managed to get pictures of the stragglers that were still setting up Anja Clark's luxurious campsite.

On the other side of the Faire, Ducky and Abby were keeping an eye on the display pavilion. It would not be open until the Grand Feast on Saturday, but men were bustling in and out, moving in the tightly covered displays. Abby flitted about, telling fortunes to anyone who would stop, as she stealthily took pictures of the covered cargo and the men moving it. The Scottish storyteller wandered about, charming women and children alike as he stayed close enough to Abby to watch out for her.

While the rest of the group was on recon, the remaining three had Faire business to attend to. Wearing the hosen and arming doublet of a fighter, Tim went to the List, or battlefield, to meet with the other fighters at the Faire. This was also the time where new squires and old masters were acknowledged, so Ziva and Gibbs were with him. A few other nobles were in attendance, including the French Princess they were targeting. Ziva didn't spend much time photographing her, but managed to get some shots of the men she was with, especially the fighter she was sponsoring, a tall, heavily built man with an Eastern European accent.

After the schedule was confirmed and the rules reviewed, the official part of the meeting broke up and the conversations and bragging started. Gibbs would have loved to hear more of the story about last year's championship, which seemed to feature a great deal about his own agent, but they were there for a case. Making a mental note to drill Sarah later on the subject, he let the milling crowd propel him nearer to the Princess, giving her brief smiles on occasion as he eased closer. Finally, he was close enough to start a conversation, but she beat him to it.

"I believe we are both newcomers to this fair land, good sir." She held out a gloved hand.

Gibbs fell into the roll perfectly, slipping his hand under hers as he gave a low bow, leaning heavily on the walking stick. "My lady, thy beauty doth stagger the sun as it travels towards yon sunset. I am Jeames Hadricke, Earl of Bedford, and I am at thy service."

"Thou honor me, kind sir. I am Guillette le Blont, the true and rightful heir to the throne that was stolen away from my father, Lord Guillaumin Philippot le Blont."

The team knew that her insistence of royalty was one of many reasons the local Faire was upset with her intrusion, but as the old saying goes, flattery will get you everywhere. "Your Highness, the honor is mine. Mayest I escort you to thine abode?" His hand still under hers, Gibbs shifted so that his entire arm was supporting hers.

They were both silent until they had moved away from the crowds. Once they had more privacy, she began to stroke his hand. "Is it true that you had an accident in the modern world?" Her French accent had transitioned to her Russian accent and Gibbs knew she was taking the bait. "Yes, my now ex-wife became impatient waiting to become my widow and tried to hurry the process along."

"What a silly woman." Fully Anja and not the Princess, she snuggled against him. "I would take such good care of a man like yourself."

He pulled her closer still. "Oh, I imagine you would."

Now that they were coming into range of her encampment, she slipped back into persona, as did Gibbs. "Verily, I thank thee, Lord Bedford. Prithee, I find it helpful to support the peasants in the townships as I travel, and treat my workmen to a night of local ale. Might I see thee at the local tavern with the quaint name?"

"It has held no interest to me til now, but for thee, I wouldst. In truth, no drink couldst compare with the pleasure of thine company, but to assist the local peasantry is a kind and noble deed." Now at the entry of her camp, he bowed and kissed her fingers. "Til tonight, M'lady."

-NCIS-

Inside the tent, Ducky had looked amused as he checked the folds of his brat. "Really, Jethro, much more sweet talk like that and your teeth will begin to rot. Are you sure you're not laying it on a bit thick?"

A grin and a raised eyebrow was all he received before Gibbs changed the subject. "Are you sure about this plan of yours, old man?"

"Quite certain, and it's actually Sarah's idea, not mine. I don't doubt that her brother would not be thrilled with her playing such an active role, but she will be quite safe. The men who will play her attackers are gentlemen that she has known for years. I assure you, Sarah will be fine."

To look a little more accessible, Gibbs wore only the doublet over his shirt, and not the velvet jerkin. He'd also traded out the standard cuffs and collar of his shirt for the extra pair, which were much more formal. When he'd seen just how frilly and lacy they were, he'd known just why McGee had kept them hidden as long as possible.

Now he was sitting at a table in the Bawdy Bosom. DiNozzo had given him a snappy 'G'Day, Your Lordship' before he went back to wiping down tables and trading humorous insults with some of Anja's men that were already there. The woman herself arrived a few minutes later, obviously on the prowl.

Gibbs noticed that she, too, had removed a layer of her garb and struggled to remember what Tim had called it. Ah, yes, a partlet; a semi-sheer caplet that had covered her shoulders and chest. Without it, she fit right into the ambiance of the tavern, the low, square neckline of her gown giving an ample view of the treasures normally hidden.

He stood and kissed her hand before calling out to the nearby DiNozzo. "You there, boy."

"Yes, Your Worship?" Somewhere in the course of the day, DiNozzo had picked up a bit of a cockney accent and the attitude that went with it. Gibbs gave it right back.

"Might this tavern have a bottle fit for a lady? None of the common swill, lad, bring her Highness the finest bottle your mistress has hidden away and be quick about it."

-NCIS-

Throughout the grounds of the Faire, the rest of the team was equally busy. Knowing all the regulars had an advantage and Tim had invited himself into a camp of an old friend, Ziva in tow. Sitting across from Anja Clark's encampment gave them a bird's eye view of the comings and goings of her hired help. Most had left, presumably for the tavern or their display pavilion, but two had remained behind. Ziva listened to the argument that was going on in Russian, somebody was not happy with their mistress's interest in the new man she had latched onto today out on the List.

Hearing fragments of a language he didn't know, McGee kept up the conversation at the campfire, allowing Ziva to appear as if she were listening intently while actually her focus was on the next camp over.

Even further over, the activity was increasing at the display pavilion. A young wench with long, brown hair and a fiery temper was being accosted by several apparently drunk young men. An older Scot came to her rescue, the yelling and shouting managed to distract the men standing watch and two figures slipped inside.

"It's over here." Chair located, it only took a few minutes for Abby to swab for blood and collect evidence while Palmer examined the back of the chair. He'd used the damage from the body to map out which spikes had carried the lethal charge and the evidence remained behind if you knew what to look for. A night camera recorded the evidence without a tell-tale flash and moments later they were gone, the watchmen still enthralled with the young woman and her overly amorous suitors.


	8. Chapter 8

**a/n - Things are kicking into high gear and there's only two more chapters to go after this one. One of the requests that came with the prompts for this story was that it not be too long. That was the hardest part, cause I could have turned this into a 40 chapter epic. Well, rumor has it the Kingdom of Cia' may need help, requiring a return to the Faire. What do you think, Kort as a Viking or a Saxon?**

* * *

Ever since mornings working in his father's store, Gibbs had been an early riser so it wasn't unusual for him to be awake at first light, even on a Saturday morning, but it was unusual to wake to the sounds of sizzling bacon. Still wearing the drawstring sleep pants McGee had provided all the men, Gibbs wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and wandered out of the tent to settle into one of the chairs near the campfire.

"Morning, Boss." Tim grinned and handed him a mug of coffee, which Gibbs gratefully took. "I assume Ducky and Tony are still sleeping?"

Gibbs returned the grin and happily took a sip. There was nothing quite like coffee made over an open campfire and he savored that first swallow. Ducky had been back at camp the previous night before he'd returned from the Bawdy Bosom, but DiNozzo had not returned until well after closing, escorted by two of the well-endowed bar wenches. "Ducky's starting to wake up, DiNozzo's still out. Did Palmer and Abby get out all right?"

"Yeah, the cover is that she had an allergic reaction and Jimmy took her to her doctor. That way he won't be questioned when he comes back in."

Gibbs nodded and they both fell silent. The tests Abby had run last night confirmed that there was blood on the spikes and it was human. Scoring from an electrical charge had also been found on the two spikes Jimmy was expecting. As an added bonus, enough blood had been soaked into one of the leather straps to run a DNA test, prompting Abby's return to the modern world.

They still didn't know exactly why Sergeant Ward had been tortured and murdered, but they did know that his murder weapon would be turned into a public display later that day. Beyond that, the fragments of conversation Ziva had heard told them that Anja Clark and her people were expecting company on Sunday.

Ziva joined them just as Tim was pouring the eggs into the skillet, Sarah only moments behind her, but carrying a coffee cake she had made earlier. Ducky's arrival was timed perfectly as the potatoes finished browning. DiNozzo was the last to arrive, and gratefully took the plate of food that was offered. It was a quiet meal, some soaking in the ambiance, some still too sleepy to carry on a conversation. Not surprisingly, it was Ducky that finally broke the silence.

"Despite the circumstances that brought us out here, this has been an amazing adventure, Timothy, thank you."

Tim smiled and saluted the older man with his coffee cup. "One of these days, you'll have to come back with me when we don't have to work a case."

"Could we?" Ziva looked rather excited at the prospect and even Gibbs gave a smile and a nod. DiNozzo had to think about it.

"Can I still be at the Bawdy Bosom?" Luckily, he was on the other side of the fire from Gibbs, but he could see the twitching hand and concentrated on eating. "Man, Probie, what did you put in these eggs? They're great."

McGee and Gibbs exchanged grins. Gibbs explained as McGee added more eggs to Tony's plate. "It's called cooking outdoors, the best part of camping."

The archery match was set to start at 0900, so after their hearty breakfast everyone got started on their day. Ducky was scheduled to man the first aide station that morning, and Sarah needed to get started on the lunch cart. Since she was without a helper until Jimmy returned from the Yard, Ziva offered her assistance. Tony didn't need to report to the tavern until the late shift, so he joined McGee to watch Gibbs at the archery match.

-NCIS-

Anja was waiting for him, much to the annoyance of her fighter who stood in the background.

"Lord Bedford."

Princess Guillette." Gibbs gave a sweeping bow. "Good morrow, your Highness, have you come to watch the games?"

"Mayhap I have a more cherished reasoning." She gave him a coy look from beneath her lashes. "Wouldst thou wear my token for luck?"

Gibbs stood still as she took a ribbon from her hair and tied it around his upper arm. "Grammercy, M'Lady." With a final kiss of her hand, he returned to McGee for his final preparations.

Tim couldn't help but grin. "You do remember the significance of that?"

Gibbs thought through the massive amount of information McGee had drilled into his head. "It's a favor, right? A token."

Not just any favor, it's a 'for the nonce' favor, you remember that one?"

"Oh, OH." Gibbs clapped him on the back and leaned closer to whisper in his ear, just loud enough for Tony to hear. "Guess your lessons on chivalrous courtship techniques worked." With one last slap on the other man's back, Gibbs took his place on the line, bow at the ready.

"You taught him. YOU taught him how to court women? DiNozzo stood right in back of McGee, hissing in his other ear. "What is wrong with this picture? Wait a minute, what's a 'for the nonce'?"

McGee didn't turn around, but leaned back slightly as he whispered his answer. "It's a romantic favor. She expects it returned later, personally... in private."

"Really? Way to go, Boss. Too bad we think she's a cold-blooded killer."

"Yeah, but she's a red-headed, cold-blooded killer."

"Okay, you got me there." He waited a moment. "So, can you teach me? Just... just don't tell anyone." The starting signal of the tournament saved Tim from answering.

A sniper was a sniper no matter the century or the weapon. Yesterday's lesson had been enough to learn the sighting and handling of the longbow and against the self-taught amateurs, Gibbs excelled. As the scores were being tallied, Tony had one more question for his friend.

"How come you didn't compete?" Counting heads and available target stands he came to his own conclusion. "You gave up your spot for him, didn't you?"

Tim shrugged and turned back to listen to the awards. Seeing that shy, happy smile they so rarely saw on their boss's face when he was named champion of the day more than made up for his own missed chance. Tony squeezed his shoulder.

"Thanks, Tim."

-NCIS-

Just before lunch the horses arrived. With Ziva at his side, Tim went out to meet the old family friend who loaned him a stallion trained for jousting. "Robert, it's good to see you again. How's Karen?"

"Wondering when you're going to start giving us honorary grandchildren to spoil." Robert laughed as he watched Tim turn a bright red and while the younger man was choking, he turned his attention to Ziva. "Hey, I'm Robert Parker, I've known this kid since he was knee high to a grasshopper. You his girl?"

Now even Ziva was blushing, albeit slightly. "No, I am his Squire."

"Eh, it's a start." While the two agents composed themselves, Robert moved to the back of the horse trailer and opened it up, leading the tall horse down the ramp. Coal black with a white blaze down the center of his face, the horse was powerful and strong.

Ziva didn't have a clue if he knew where he was, but the moment the horse caught the breeze, he straightened up and his trot became a prance. It took her breath away. "He's beautiful."

Tim came close and took the reins, nuzzling with the horse. "Hey, Zeus, did you miss me?" Apparently he did, judging for the snort and whinny that answered him. Ziva edged closer and closer until she felt Tim slip something into her hand. Square and grainy, she smiled her thanks and offered it to the horse, laughing at the tickling sensation when he took the cube of sugar from her palm.

By the time she looked up, Tim and Robert had the saddle and protective gear on Zeus and were tightening the straps. Robert was laughing at the horse. "Easy there, big fella. Yeah, you know what this padding means. If the two of you did this full time he'd be the happiest horse in the world."

Tim looked younger as he smiled at the horse and owner. "That would be fun, but the job comes first." He easily mounted the horse, but tossed the reins to Ziva. She knew this was coming, but it was still a thrill to walk the proud animal and his rider to the practice field where McGee put Zeus through his paces. Trotting, cantering, galloping, stops and starts, until horse and rider were one and ready for Sunday's jousting match.

-NCIS-

Vance walked into the lab to find Abby glaring at her machines. "Is there a problem, Miss Sciuto?"

"My babies have to work faster, Leon. I have to get back before the Siege fight this afternoon. It's bad enough that I had to miss Gibbs in the archery match, I can't miss Timmy fighting with a broadsword."

McGee with a broadsword? Sometimes being the one stuck behind the desk sucked. "All right, let's get Mr. Palmer in here and go over what we have so far."

Jimmy showed up almost seconds after she called him. On the plasma he showed a photo of Sergeant Ward's back, the wounds that involved the electrical charge clearly marked. A transparent image of the chair Anja Clark owned went up next, the spikes that had been used to conduct the electricity also clearly marked. When the two images were overlapped, they had a match. Jimmy turned to Vance. "Proof positive, that's the chair that killed Sergeant Ward."

Before Vance could say anything, Abby's computer chirped and she rushed for the results. She yanked the paper out of the printer and waved it at Vance. "DNA is a match. It's Sergeant Ward's blood on the chair. Now we can make an arrest?"

"But arrest who?" Jimmy's questions stopped Abby cold. "How do we know who put him in the chair, and who's just there to help set up the display?"

"I'm afraid Mr. Palmer is right, Abby. Unfortunately, to know who, we need to know why. We need a motive. We know from what Ziva overheard that someone important to their plan is arriving at the Faire Sunday. Ward's murder may just be the tip of the iceberg."

Vance's assistant arrived at that moment, shyly smiling at the gypsy and the pickle salesman. "They just finished running facial recognition on the pictures they took. Two men stood out, sir."

He took the offered folder and opened it to look at what the technicians in MTAC had discovered. The first match made him groan, the second one set off alarms in his head. He held out the first picture. Abby didn't recognize the man, but the clothing and the background told her that he was one of the fighters that had been at the pre-battle meeting on the List the day before. Anja Clark standing next to him told her the connection.

"He's one of the fighters. Ziva mentioned that Anja was sponsoring a fighter, so that must be him."

Vance was not happy to tell her. "His name is Sergey Kovalenko. He's Russian Special Forces, or at least he was before he was expelled for unnecessary brutality. Now he's a mercenary for hire."

"We can't let McGee fight that monster, he'll get slaughtered."

Jimmy tried to calm her down. "They have really strict rules about the fights, Abby. It's actually pretty safe."

"Yeah, safe as long as they all follow the rules, Do you think that guy is going to follow the rules? We have to solve this case. Who's the other guy?"

"Norbert Hampton, one of the suspects in the security breech Ward was investigating when he was still stationed in California."

Abby took the file and skimmed it quickly. "So why does a top secret weapons design engineer quit his job to help set up a RenFaire display on the other side of the country?"

"Ward left California three days after Hampton quit his job. Hampton and that security breech are the keys to this. Palmer, you go back to the Faire, but Miss Sciuto, I need you here. When we finally get our hands on the files from California, they're bound to be encrypted. If I don't have McGee here, then I need you.


	9. Chapter 9

**a/n - and the fun begins...**

After several hours of practice, Ziva could get either set of McGee's armor off of him in a hurry. For today's battle he was wearing a doubly thick padded jacket under leather armor that had been hardened by boiling. Only his helmet was steel and it was scratched and scuffed.

Gibbs was in the tent going over the papers Palmer had brought back with him, while Tony looked on nervously as McGee sat on the ground and stretched. "I thought this was all for show. Your armor looks like its been through some real battles there, Probie."

"There's a lot of adrenalin out there during a battle, Tony. The governing body has really strict rules about the weapons, so there's only so much damage they can do and the armor is designed to absorb it. I'll be fine." Neither man saw Gibbs come out of the tent.

"How do you know that all the fighters are going to follow the rules?" Gibbs had just finished reading Kovalenko's background and he was more than a little worried about sending his least experienced agent up against the man.

"All the weapons are examined before the battle. No sharp edges, specified construction materials and methods and a set weight limit Nothing can be over six pounds. Here." Tim handed his broadsword to Gibbs.

Weighing in at just over five and a half pounds, the massive broadsword was quite deceptive. Even holding it, Gibbs could hardly believe it was a beautifully crafted and faux finished rubber blade. "Wow."

Tony wasn't quite convinced. "I thought you flunked fencing in college."

"I did." Tim took back the sword as Gibbs handed it to him. "I suck at epee, but the broadsword is a whole different game. I'll be fine."

"I'm sure you will be, but I still want you to be careful of this guy." Gibbs showed him the photo, but McGee just shook his head before donning his helmet.

"Doesn't do me any good to know what his face looks like. I'd need to know what his armor looks like." He stood and Ziva began helping him with his gauntlets. "Once I know what he looks like, I'll be careful, Boss, but there's going to be a lot of Knights fighting out there today."

Tony was still trying to figure out how all this worked. "So, how do you do this? Are you on teams, do you draw straws to know who you're fighting?"

Sarah arrived back at camp on her way to the battlefield. "The opening fight is always a melee, the last knight left standing is the winner."

"What? And you let your brother do this?" Behind Tony, even Gibbs looked alarmed.

"My brother's a big boy, Tony, he can take care of himself." She turned and stepped up close to Tim so she was looking through the face guard of the helmet. "Don't die out there today, brother, but if you must, then die with style."

"You will pick through the carnage and find me, won't you?"

Back in character, Sarah was walking backwards out of camp, a basket of food balanced on her hip. "Aye, M'Lord. Thine armor shalt fetch a shilling or two if not too bloody." With a wave, she turned and continued on, while DiNozzo looked back at Gibbs in shock.

"Die with style?"

"Pick through the carnage?"

-NCIS-

"Sir, I think you need to see this." Vance looked up in time to be handed a file. The young man from Intel looked nervous and when Vance opened the folder he knew why. Peter Ivanof, the most notorious weapons dealer to come out of the Soviet Block after the break-up of the Soviet Union had just landed at the airport and was currently in customs. The most notable item discovered in his luggage was a handcrafted replica of costume for a Landsknecht soldier from the 1530's.

Vance leaned back in his chair and ran his hands down his face before calling the FBI and insisting that their surveillance team on the man keep him in the loop at all times.

-NCIS-

The Weapon's Master and his three assistants carefully checked, measured and weighed each weapon that would be carried out onto the List. Gibbs was vaguely aware of McGee's inspection, but he and the rest of the group were looking for Sergey Kovalenko. When they finally spotted him, he was at the inspection table, handing over an impressive looking weapon, and wearing all black armor. Ducky gave him a careful look before retreating to the medical tent, hoping to not be needed in a professional capacity.

DiNozzo's knowledge came from movies, but it was enough. "Is that a mace?"

"I believe so, Tony." Ziva had come up beside them and was watching carefully but the inspection went smoothly and the mace was approved for the battlefield. Cleared for battle, Kovalenko returned to the side of his sponsor, Princess Guillette, who sat on the ground, a blanket protecting her full gown from the dirt and grass. As people milled about and momentarily blocked anyone's view, Kovalenko slid his mace under the folds of her gown and replaced it with another mace that might look exactly the same but would never pass inspection.

-NCIS-

Vance wasn't at all surprised when Fornell showed up NCIS less than an hour after his call to the FBI. "Agent Fornell, what can I do for you?"

"I think we both know what this is about, Director Vance." Fornell sat and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "What is your interest in Peter Ivanof?"

Wanting Fornell to focus on the seriousness of the situation and not get sidetracked with the location of the possible meet, Vance slid the folder of autopsy photos across his desk to the other man. "A Marine tracking a security breech at a weapons research facility was tortured and murdered. We believe that Ivanof is here to meet with his killers."

"And acquire whatever was stolen from the research facility?" Fornell blanched when he saw what had been done to Ward. "Tell me you have a lead on this poor sap's killers."

"Our team has them under surveillance as we speak, just waiting for the last piece to come into play."

"You're sure it's Ivanof?"

Vance braced his feet. "He has the costume needed to get into where our suspects are waiting."

"Costume? You mean that landisketch-something?"

"It's a Landsknecht, and yes."

Fornell couldn't quite hide his growing smile. "So, what castle are they holed up at?"

"Not a castle. They're waiting for him at the Shire of the Dragon Renaissance Faire."

"A RenFaire? You have a team waiting outside of a RenFaire?" Fornell was already picturing Gibbs sitting in a van, glaring at the participants.

It took all of his training to keep a straight face, but he was a Director, after all. "Not outside."

"Not outside? You mean... Gibbs in tights?"

Vance let the slightest smile break through. "The mind, it doth boggle."

-NCIS-

Forty-five knights were positioned around the perimeter of the List, waiting for the Royal command. To the north, Queen Anna was standing on a raised platform, and behind her were over one hundred watchers, including some very nervous federal agents. The horn sounded, the crowd silenced and the Queen tossed a royal hankie off the platform. Everyone watched as it fluttered slowly to the ground. When contact was finally made, a battlecry went up that echoed throughout the valley and all forty-five knights charged into battle.

Gibbs was much more fascinated than he was willing to admit, and as he studied the action he began to understand what Tim and Sarah had meant. A blow to an arm meant that the arm was then held against the body, and the fighter continued on as if they had lost the arm. A hit to the leg rendered the victim one-legged as they hopped after their opponents. He watched a knight "lose" both legs and valiantly continue to fight on his knees, unable to move from that position. A glancing blow to the body would cause the victim to stagger and be vulnerable for a few moments, while a direct blow would be a death strike and they would lay where they fell until the battle moved on and one of the squires dragged them off the battlefield.

Over half the knights were down by now, but McGee was still in the thick of things, his broadsword cutting a thick swatch through the combatants. Kovalenko was still on his feet, but the two had not yet crossed paths.

DiNozzo was standing next to Gibbs, grinning like a loon. "This is really cool. Who knew Probie could fight like that?"

Gibbs couldn't help but grin back at his senior agent. The entire case had been a surprise and he was looking forward to sitting McGee down with a glass of bourbon and finding out more. For now, he pointed out Ziva, kneeling on the edge of the List with the rest of the squires. Her hair had come loose from the wrap and her eyes were shining. It was obvious that she was having the time of her life, a sharp contrast from the shell-shocked woman they had carried out of Somalia. Her shift in focus brought their attention back to the battle.

Only a handful of fighter remained upright on the List and McGee was finally facing the Black Knight. He swung his blade, making contact with Kovalenko's arm before dancing backwards out of the way of the mace. A cheer went up on the sidelines, lead by DiNozzo.

The two knights battled on, McGee just missing a death blow before ducking, causing the other man to also miss a death strike. The melee had been going on for almost an hour and the other battles were winding down. The lone surviving knight from another battle charged at McGee, forcing him to split his attention. McGee quickly dispatched the man, but while he was turned, Kovalenko charged at him, swinging the mace with all his remaining power. It caught McGee high on the back and sent him cartwheeling across the ground.

The battle was over, but Kovalenko stood near the fallen McGee, mace overhead as if to strike again. The field marshals began to move in, but a lithe figure charged in, scooping up the broadsword. Breathing heavily, Ziva stood over her Knight, ready to defend him. The crowd, which had been booing the Black Knight, began to cheer for the brave squire and Kovalenko turned and stormed off the field.

By the time Gibbs and DiNozzo made it to where McGee had fallen, he was sitting up and talking to Ziva and to Ducky. Sarah arrived only a few seconds later, furious. "I can't believe he hit you like that."

The angry Israeli had her own concerns. "I can not believe that mace was a legal weapon."

"It wasn't." Tim gingerly moved around as Ducky fussed over him. "I've been hit by a legal mace before, and that wasn't one. He must have switched it out after the inspection."

Sarah started to stand. "I'll get the Weapons Master."

Tim pulled her back down. "No, by now he's switched back."

"But..."

"We have to focus on the case, Sarah. I'm fine, just a little bruised."

"You sure, McGee?"

McGee winced as he leaned back to look at his boss. "I'm sure. Nailing them tomorrow is too important. Sergeant Ward deserves justice."

"And what do you deserve, Probie?" Tony had yet to calm down after seeing his best friend knocked across the field.

"Some help getting up?"


	10. Chapter 10

**a/n - Last chapter, and it's a big one! Thanks for sticking around, my daughter's birthday is this weekend, but I hope to have _Puppet Master _finished before I leave for my son's graduation from basic training. After that, I'll return with _Dance of Swords. _Thank you for all the wonderful comments, they are cherished and appreciated.**

Sunday morning it was Gibbs that was up first to start the fire and the coffee. In the early dawn he thought about the events following the battle. Although there was an undercurrent of resentment towards Anja Clark and her crew, especially after Kovalenko's unsportsmanlike attack on McGee, the evening banquet was fun and boisterous. Gibbs had no idea exactly what he had eaten during the seven course meal, but it was all pretty good. Ducky had regaled the group with stories of early Scotland, becoming one of the more popular storytellers at the Faire.

The evening had concluded with the grand opening and tour of the exhibit. Most of the implements were actually quite interesting, but watching people stare at the chair of torture made Gibbs uncomfortable in a way he couldn't describe. A fellow Marine had met his end strapped to that torture device, it was nothing to celebrate.

Ducky's arrival at the campfire stopped his thoughts from spiraling any further downward. "How's he doing, Duck?"

"Stiff, sore, colorful and determined to joust later today."

"Is that a good idea?"

"I'd rather he target me instead of a civilian. He seemed to take it personally that you've caught Anja's interest. We've got to keep it going until whoever she's meeting with shows up." Carefully twisting and stretching as he walked, Tim joined the two older men, Tony hovering at his elbow.

Gibbs wanted another opinion. "DiNozzo?"

"Well, he did manage to get out of bed by himself." Tony shrugged as he helped himself to some coffee. "Since none of us can joust in his place, I don't think there's really a choice."

Gibbs had to agree even if he didn't like it. During the feast the Earl of Bedford had been visited by Princess Guillette and given her formal apology for the break down in etiquette that had occurred on the battlefield. Following McGee's lead, he'd accepted the apology, but there was something about Kovalenko's stance that convinced Gibbs that it wasn't over yet. A soldier's instinct was rarely wrong and Kovalenko sensed that McGee was the real threat. That much was certain.

One by one, the rest of the group arrived as breakfast finished cooking. The last one out was Palmer, wearing different clothes. When she saw her brother staring at Palmer, she explained.

"Since he's helping me in the kitchen, he needed more changes of clothing. These were being left behind, so I grabbed them as we were loading up."

"Sarah, I left them behind for Director Vance, in case he came out here."

"I'm sorry, that means the only garb left there..."

"Yeah. I am so dead."

The rest of the group were dying to ask, but Sarah left to start working and McGee ignored every attempt to ask.

-NCIS-

Abby was sitting in Vance's office complaining about being stuck aboard the Yard when two calls came in. The first was from the president of the weapons division of Cybertec, Inc. admitting that the plans to new stealth technology had been compromised during the security breech. The second call was from Fornell, telling him that Peter Ivanof was on the move.

Vance knew that Abby would not stay put with that kind of knowledge and that Gibbs would kill him if something happened to her, but even more than that, he wanted to personally see his team take down an arms dealer that the FBI and Interpol had been chasing for years. "I believe Agent McGee left a set of garb behind for me for just this event."

"We're going?"

"We're going."

-NCIS-

DiNozzo watched in awe as Ziva helped McGee buckle his many pieces of armor. Today's set was more for show that what he'd worn for the melee, all steel and highly polished. "You know, Tim, the next time we ask you if you did anything on your days off, we're going to expect a little more detail from now on."

"Yeah, I kinda figured. You know, I expected more teasing."

"Honestly, so did I, but this is so cool. Seeing you swinging that broadsword around yesterday, man, that was wild, and today you're jousting. What exactly happens?"

Gibbs came closer to hear McGee's answer. A tragedy had brought them out here and as team leader he couldn't act like a kid, but parts of the weekend had been the most fun he'd had in years.

Tim started checking the fit of his armor, making sure nothing would bind and limit his range of motion as he gave the team the rundown. "First is the target jousting. That's where we have targets to throw the lances at; the smaller the target, the higher the score. After that comes the two man jousting. Those matches are what gets exciting."

"How dangerous will it be, lad?" Ducky was still concerned after the encounter the day before.

Quickly, McGee gave them a rundown of the rules, how the lance was to be held so that it would swing away from your opponent after impact, how the last several feet of the lance was constructed of foam, designed to shatter upon impact to give a good show, how the middle section was made out of a thin cardboard tube that would buckle and give if something went wrong, how even the base was designed of a non-brittle material to further protect both combatants if something totally unforeseen happened. Even the horse wore protective gear and eye protection.

It sounded extremely safe, but Gibbs' gut was telling him not to let his guard down as he and Tony followed the knight and squire to the stable. Once Sir Giles was mounted on Zeus, Tony took over carrying the lances as Ziva walked the horse and rider to the List.

They were almost half way to their destination when Ziva and Zeus came to a stop at McGee's muttered moan. Abby was walking towards them, very happy to be back in time for the event, and she was dragging along a very reluctant jester.

Vance tried to glare at them, but it was hard to be terrifying with bells bouncing around the ends of your hat. Gibbs stepped in to save his team before they started laughing. "I heard there was a mix-up about the garb left for you, Leon, but I must say you pull it off quite well."

"Hmmph." He looked around for McGee, taking a minute to realize the tall knight atop the magnificent black stallion was his agent. "Wow."

That was even more than Abby could come up with, rendered speechless for the first time since Gibbs had known her, while Tim saw it as the perfect opportunity to show Zeus's trick.

"M'Lady." He tapped the side of Zeus's neck as he spoke and the horse bowed down along with Tim. Abby squealed and clapped in delight before she curtsied in return.

-NCIS-

By the time they arrived at the List, Vance had brought them all up to speed and they knew what new player to look for. Only twelve knights were jousting and they were lined up for the royal inspection. Each of the knights pressed a closed fist against their chest in salute as the King and Queen walked past, but only Sir Giles acknowledged the Royal Procession with an equine bow.

No one knew if it was proper protocol, but when the Queen asked, Ziva handed her several sugar cubes. The Black Knight was the only one not smiling when Zeus was finished.

Inspection of the target lances was quick and within thirty minutes the accuracy portion of the match was underway. The opening weekend no one expected perfect scores, but McGee was pleased to finish in a three way tie with the Black Knight and an Italian Nobleman.

The main event was much more involved, and each knight had four prepared lances ready. Gibbs watched closely as his friend, Sir Deric, inspected the lances brought to the List by the Black Knight. A late night visit with the retired Marine Corps captain had hatched a plan and a chemical tracer was carefully smudged across the Styrofoam tip of each inspected lance. Invisible to the naked eye, it would show up only when scanned. Palmer had the scanner hidden in the vendor basket he was carrying. Few people noticed the pickle merchant and he was able to wander among the contestants without raising suspicion.

Gibbs was expected to stay close to his former squire, which kept him also close to Anja and her fighter, which left only Vance and DiNozzo to look for Ivanof and Hampton. Abby wanted to help, but she wasn't a trained agent, so Gibbs ordered her to stay with Ducky.

Vance had learned to juggle as a trick to make a teething baby laugh many years ago, but it was a skill that was coming in handy as he wandered through the crowd, looking for their two suspects On the other side of the jousting field DiNozzo was pretending to flirt with the women as he did the same. The dark blue of Ivanof's Landsknecht caught his attention and Vance started moving to intercept.

The first two rounds of jousting were dramatic and fun to watch, and now McGee and Kovalenko were preparing to line up. Kovalenko was tired of the playacting and ready to seal the deal and move on. Anja may have the money and the connections, but her insistance on using these events to cover their activities was wearing on his nerves, and her fascination with the men she picked up along the way made it even worse.

He'd had fun toying with the young man her current beau apparently trained, but Anja had been furious at his method. To top it off, he was sure there was more to this Earl of Bedford than met the eye. The inner strength, the soul of a soldier he saw in the man didn't match up with the weak target she thought he was. Now a new player had entered the field, and he was tracking Ivanof. It was time to end this and cut their losses.

"Boy!"

His squire looked up and saw Kovalenko tilt his head slightly towards their supplies and then nod. The young man gave a retuning nod before gathering up all four lances. He was off balance and stumbled before dropping the lances. They rolled up against the edge of the arming tent and no one noticed when he pushed one of the lances further under the edge and still stood up with four lances.

The four lances were brought to Kovalenko and he chose the one on top, enjoying the feel of the heavy steel nestled in the crook of his arm. With a little bit of luck, the tragedy of the round would cover the true reason they were there and give their buyer time to get away from whoever was following him.

-NCIS-

Jimmy had to struggle to get past a portly Duke that couldn't make up his mind as to which pickle he wanted to buy and he just got the scan done as Sir Deric looked at him one last time. Jimmy looked at the screen in horror and shook his head frantically just as the horses started their charge.

Sir Deric called out to the Field Marshal, who instantly yelled for a hold. Every knight knew what that meant, and Tim immediately pulled back on the reins and dropped the tip on his lance to protect his opponent. Making such a sudden change was difficult with a horse and the split second he spent controlling Zeus cost him as he did not react quickly enough to the still charging Black Knight.

-NCIS-

Vance saw the hand off between Ivanof and Hampton just as Ivanof spotted DiNozzo tailing Hampton. Ivanof shouted something in Russian and turned to run. Once Ivanof reached the crowd of people watching the jousting match, it would have impossible to catch him and the threat of hostages too great. Shooting at him also wasn't an option with that many civilians.

Formulating and dismissing plans as he ran, Vance realized he was still holding the balls he'd been juggling earlier. Back in his days as a field agent, he'd been the pitcher for the department baseball team. Praying he hadn't lost his touch, Vance lobbed a fast ball at the fleeing weapons broker. It hit him square in the back and dropped him like a stone. With no time to gloat, Vance pinned his arms and had him in handcuffs before the ball stopped bouncing.

At the other end of the encounter, DiNozzo was slowly creeping up on Hampton when Ivanof suddenly yelled to him in Russian. Tony didn't have a clue what was said, but Hampton took off running. Cursing, Tony took off after him. Mistress Gayle and the ladies from the tavern were walking to the List to watch the match and he called out to them.

"Cutpurse."

To the tavern owner and her wenches, there was nothing lower than a thief and the ladies immediately cut off his escape route. Hampton tried to cut back, but he slipped as he tried to change direction. Tony was on him before he could regain his footing. He cuffed Hampton with the handcuffs he had hidden in his hat just as he heard screams of horror from the field.

-NCIS-

The second he heard the Field Marshal yell out, Kovalenko knew they'd been discovered. When he saw the jester take down Ivanof, and therefore the promised payday, Kovalenko saw red. His opponent, the honorable knight, pulled up, twisting to protect him. He knew it was instinct on the other man's part, but all Sergey had left was revenge and escape, so he charged. The thin layer of foam that covered the steel shaft of his lance was there strictly for show, it was a lethal weapon and he knew it. He aimed for the small gap that had opened between McGee's shield and his body armor and spurred his horse hard.

A foam lance and a plywood shield were no defense against a ten foot long steel spike, and Kovalenko thrilled at the sound it made impacting against McGee's chestplate. Screams could be heard, and the second his opponent was down, Kovalenko turned his mount to make his escape.

-NCIS-

Timothy McGee had seen his first live jousting match when he was twelve, and in all the years that had followed, he'd heard that last second hold many times. Usually a judge or field marshal had seen a loose strap or some debris on the field and called a halt. It was always a matter of safety, so when he heard the call, he instantly turned and pulled back on the reins. Zeus pranced a bit, startled by the sudden change, and when Tim looked up it was too late to move or defend himself. He felt the blinding pain as his armor buckled, he was airborne and then he knew no more.

-NCIS-

Gibbs thought he was close enough in case something went wrong, but it happened so fast he didn't even have time to yell before McGee was knocked from his horse. For another split second he wavered, but Ziva was already throwing herself to the ground to aid McGee and Ducky was running towards him. Justice and revenge won out and Gibbs dashed out and grabbed the reins. Zeus seemed to sense his intentions and didn't pull away. Walking stick tucked under his arm, Gibbs clicked his heels against the horse's flanks, but it was unnecessary as Zeus galloped after the fleeing suspect.

It was many years since Gibbs had spent much time on a horse, a case or two notwithstanding, but some things you never forgot. He leaned forward, urging Zeus faster. They jumped a small creek and then a fence and were out of the park. Blaring horns and squealing tires frightened Kovalenko's horse and he reared up, but Zeus wasn't startled at all. For Kovalenko, it was the difference between escape and failure.

-NCIS-

Fornell was sitting in a sedan, waiting for something to happen. Without a costume, his presence inside the Faire would have blown the operation, but sitting here was getting on his nerves. He was just about to get out of the car to try and sneak closer when a spotted horse sailed over the fence and right in front of his car.

"What the hell?"

The pain in his leg from the dropped coffee hadn't even registered when a second horse flew past him. He turned to Sacks. "Was that Gibbs?"

Watching what was happening, he and Sacks stumbled and clawed their way out of the car. By the time they were on their feet, the first horse had panicked, spilling his rider. Gibbs tossed a long wooden stick, spinning it towards the man in black armor. The impact against his knees brought him down and Gibbs was on top of him before he could react.

The heavy body armor prevented a choke hold or a right hook to the jaw, but Gibbs managed to have the suspect subdued by the time Fornell and Sacks reached them. Fornell looked Gibbs up and down, grinning, before handing him a pair of handcuffs. "Here, use mine. Please use mine, I really don't want to know where you hide yours in that outfit."

Fornell may have been expecting a snappy comeback, what he got was a large man in a heavy metal suit shoved at him before Gibbs was back on the horse and racing back to the List.

"Don't you die on me, McGee. You do not have permission to die."

-NCIS-

McGee rolled twice before landing face down in the dirt, unmoving. Ducky, Abby, Palmer and Sarah were all running towards him, but Ziva was the first to arrive, sliding to a stop on her knees. Bracing his neck, she rolled him onto his back and released his face visor before getting started on the buckles of his armor. The well made steel plates had not punctured, but had dented and twisted, putting a crushing pressure against his chest.

"McGee, McGee, can you hear me?" The last few buckles were too badly mangled to open, so she pulled the small knife from her boot and started to cut the leather straps. Palmer was the next to arrive and he finished opening the visor on Tim's helmet before sliding the helmet off his friend.

"Tim, come on man, talk to us." Jimmy looked up as Ducky dropped to his knees next to him. "Unconscious with no signs of spontaneous respiration."

Ziva was cutting through the last of the straps when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. Anja Clark was slowly standing up and edging back, away from the crowd that was gathering. Abby and Sarah were just arriving at Tim's side and saw where Ziva was looking.

Abby felt like she should have been the one to take the initiative, but Sarah saw red when Anja tried to slip into the crowd and it was all Abby could do to keep up with her.

"Thou murderous hussy! Thou thinkest thy profits more valued than the freedom of thy kingdom?"

Abby blinked in surprise. Sarah in character was even scarier when she was mad. All attempts to sneak away gone, Anja turned to run, but Sarah grabbed the back of her hair and spun her around. A short jab to the face and the former mail order bride was on the ground, out cold.

One prisoner in tow, Tony arrived to take Anja Clark into custody and the two women resumed their dash to Tim's side. A rough, raspy gasp was heard as Sarah dropped to her knees next to Ziva, Abby on the other side.

"That's it, Timothy, let's take another breath." It took a few more breaths and some painful sounding coughs before Ducky sat back on his heels. "Thank heavens, oh, thank heavens."

-NCIS-

By the time Gibbs arrived back at the List, there was an ambulance on the scene and McGee was on a gurney, propped up and an oxygen mask on his face. The young man immediately relaxed when his boss and Zeus arrived back, apparently unharmed, but he started peppering the older man with questions, gasping and coughing as he tried to speak.

Gibbs listened for a minute before holding his finger up and giving him the condensed version. "We got them in custody and you're going to be fine. That's an order, McGee, you're going to be fine."

Tim stared at him, and at Tony and Vance behind him, as if judging what he'd been told, before nodding and closing his eyes. Ducky rushed to assure Gibbs and the rest of them. "His diaphragm is badly bruised, and some ribs are cracked, but he will make a full recovery. The trip to the hospital is mainly a precaution."

Gibbs reached out and laid his hand against Tim's cheek. "Ya did good, McGee. Now, Sarah is going to ride with you to the hospital and the rest of us will be there as soon as we get the prisoners taken care of."

Fornell's sedan, followed by two more FBI vehicles passed the ambulance as it left the List. He did a quick head count and soon knew who was missing. "McGee going to be all right?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine."

"That's good. Do you want us to transport all the suspects to the Yard for you?"

Even Vance was surprised at the generous offer. "You're not going to try and take credit for the bust?"

Fornell moved his hands as if he were weighing his options. "Claim the arrest, explain the armor. Claim the arrest, explain the Director dressed as a jester. Nah, I'm good."

~Fini~


End file.
